Day Deux, Part Deux

Chateaux Meung-sur-Loire: just as cool as it sounds. Which means, really awesome in the beginning and then just kind of awkward. Charlotte and I walked into this 11^th century soldier’s chamber, resplendent in its old crumbliness and fully loaded with ancient weapons and a rare Y-shaped warhead (special kind of castle ceiling. Consult Lindsey for more details). And then, after a delightfully medieval chapel and front hall, the chateaux warped into a set for a bad 18^th century period movie. Charlotte and I were both a bit nonplussed as we gazed but-did-not-touch the costumed mannequins and tried to avoid the photographs of the current owner and her childrens’ baby pictures. Though the castle was a might underwhelming, I had a blast. We explored the moat (which lacked both crocodiles and water) and the dungeon (which included bats and creepy mood music). The dungeon was undeniably awesome.

After emerging from Chateaux di Anachronism, my beautiful companion and I wound our way through the French streets to the train station. (The French designed their streets and roads to zig zag so as to slow down the speed-demon French drivers.)

Here's an old, French building in Meung that I thought lean-worthy.

We hung out for a couple hours, because French restaurants do not open until 8pm, which just blows my mind. Is that how Europeans stay so trim? They don’t eat for chunks of eight hours?

As the day moved towards bedtime, Charlotte took me out for traditional French cuisine at the nicest restaurant I have ever been in ever. I mean, the waiter spoke fluent French! Do you get more upscale than that?! The restaurant was just a hole in the wall, with the candlelit tables pushed close together. I ordered the duck and it was succulent and wonderful and distinctly edible. After dinner, the waiter served us a digestif, which was a little shot-glass of sweet syrup that tasted dead-on like cough medicine. I can’t say whether it helped my digestion, but it certainly … was…a liquid…that I drank.

After dinner, we headed to Charlotte’s favorite bar, where we ran into an acquaintance of hers – Marina. With her I had my first bisou (the welcome and goodbye kisses on the cheeks)! She and her friends all hail from Italy, and we discussed the country and culture and language. I hesitantly tried out some of rusty language skills on the patient girls, and they in turn taught me dirty Italian words. The best moment was when they found out I was from Cincinnati. “CINCINNATI!” they all cried. I was certainly surprised that they would react with such enthusiasm to a city I would have guessed they had never heard of. Well, it seems that the city is so much fun to say that it has wiggled its way into some Italians’ hearts. (Good thing Italians aren’t big into American football).

Speaking with the Italians really revved me up for moving to Italy. I’m intensely excited. Charlotte is also very excited for me, and her enthusiasm has buttressed – maybe even flying buttressed? – me greatly.

Charlotte had warned me before we went to the bar that men liked to come up to American women and practice their English – and their romance skills. So I was ready when a Frenchman approached me:

“I need to practice my English,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, I don’t speak any English,” I replied.

*Incredulous look from the Frenchman*

Me: “I only know that one phrase.”

Charlotte enjoyed my method of evasion, so I thought I’d immortalize it in my soon-to-be wildly popular blog.